Lets Go Throw Rocks at a Dumpster
by Kokolo
Summary: Sometimes, it helps to get away. Sometimes, it's nice to have some human company for a change. Sometimes, when life gets to be too much the best thing to do is just sit back and hear the clang clang clang of a rock hitting the side of a dumpster.


**I think I should explain this one. Problem is I really don't have an explanation other than I saw some Hey Arnold on Youtube the other day and... this.**

**In case you forgot...  
-Alan was the son of Mr. Redman, the eccentric billionaire Arnold saved from being hit with a hockey puck in the episode **_Rich Guy._** Alan is a talented photographer, but he and his father did not get along too well. Though the episode ended on a happy note I have to much fun making things turn sour. So you get depressed Alan.**

**-Lorenzo was the uptight rich kid from the episode **_Rich Kid_**, that was over scheduled and high strung. Arnold straightened him out and loosened him up, though. He was also a main character in the episode **_Arnold's Room_**. As far as I see it he's pretty laid back and accepting of his place in high society  
**  
**Just to put it out there - I'm operating under the non canon / false assumption that Lorenzo and Alan have met before.**

**Enjoy**

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It was strange, how such a destructive habit was so… entertaining.

He hadn't meant to come here. His father was just so… aggravating sometimes. Sure, they had their moments, but he was getting older and so was his dad. It wasn't either of their faults. It's just how things went sometimes. Sometimes he just needed to get the hell out of the house and as far away from this… _this_ as possible.

Which was why he was here.

He hadn't meant to come here, specifically. He wasn't sure that he even wanted to be in this general area. He'd just wanted to get out really. He grabbed his camera as an excuse, but now he was beginning to regret it. It was a pretty expensive piece of equipment, and the last thing he wanted was to get mugged. That would just add to his bad mood.

He realized he'd gotten himself lost when the street names turned into numbers and the buildings started looking the same. He kind of knew the area, but not well enough to feel comfortable. So he just sat down in some alley and rested his legs. He'd recall this place eventually – or at least he'd get some rest and then call a cab or something. Point was he just didn't want to go back to his house and his dad.

Not that Mr. Redman would miss him.

Alan snarled at nothing, throwing the next rock particularly hard. The clang startled a cat somewhere off in the distance and it yowled. It made him feel better, to throw and hit something that wouldn't hit back. He was a scrawny nothing. He'd be bully bait his his dad couldn't buy and sell the kids who dared to touch his son. It didn't stop them from whispering. He knew he was off. He'd admit that. The black clothes, the lowered head, the dark and brooding moods – he was a strange kid. He wouldn't lie. He came from strange stock, and he was strange too. Just in a different way. A… less suitable way.

God forbid he be anything less than ecstatic.

He threw another rock, hard this time than the last. He was making quite a nice sized dent, he noticed. The kids who went to public school did this a lot. He'd seen Arnold do it with some of his friends. He had wanted to join them, but talked himself out of it. It had been years since Arnold had tried to patch things up between the two members of the Redman family. It worked for a little while, and he really did appreciate all of his efforts. He didn't have the heart to tell him it just… fell through. That all his trouble had gone to waste because his father sucked at being a father and, frankly, he sucked at being a son.

"What are you doing?"

Alan looked up from his dent, toward the mouth of the alley he was sitting in. He blinked a bit, the reflection of the sun in the store window across the street blinding him for a moment. It didn't matter that he couldn't see quite well; he'd know that slight accent anywhere.

"Hi."  
"Hi."  
"Where're you headed?"  
"Just heading home." He lifted the case in his left hand. "Viola lessons."  
"Mm." He picked up another rock and threw it at the dumpster. "No limo today?"  
"No. It's nice. I wanted to walk."  
"Oh."

The Redman boy turned back to the dumpster and threw another rock. It landed inside it this time, making several thumps and clangs. Lorenzo. There was a perfect son. He did all of his work, made himself well rounded and cultured, trained in the family business, and enjoyed all the perks of the privileged life. Alan couldn't. He wallowed in self-pity in back alleys, throwing rocks at dumpsters to keep from snapping under the pressure. He didn't know how to deal with his issues his way. The wrong way – but it worked out well for him. He half hoped Lorenzo would think him a freak and leave. He also half hoped that the silence would continue, the clang breaking it up. He could use the company, even if he was the side show freak and Lorenzo the observer full of pity. But the silence was getting awkward, and Lorenzo could never handle those well. He broached the silence first.

"What are you doing?" He asked again, stepping closer though visibly put off by the filth.  
"Just sitting here." Another metallic clang. "Throwin' rocks at a dumpster."  
"I see." Another clang. "Why?"  
"Hm?"  
"Why are you throwing rocks at a dumpster?"  
"Dunno."  
"That's it?"  
"Yep." A loud thud. The rock missed and hit the wall. "Simple as that."

Lorenzo continued to stare. Alan could feel the eyes on his back. He didn't mind them so much anymore. He was used to it. Everyone stared. He wasn't right. He wasn't happy. He wasn't what he should be. He knew it. He accepted it. They could get the hell off his back and let him live the way he damned well pleased. He chucked another rock hard enough to lift himself off the ground a little bit. The rock made contact, loud enough to scare another cat and hard enough to have to rock deflect back a few hops toward Alan, who stared at it with contempt.

"Are you okay?"  
"Fine."  
"Really? Cause you-"  
"_Fine_."  
"Okay."

And that was the end of that, Alan figured. He'd just snapped at the only other person who gave him half a minute of precious time. Fantastic. If there was something Alan was good at doing it was alienating people. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned. Not entirely. He just didn't know how to be human yet. He had no reason to. He was set for life. All he needed to do was make sure he didn't alienate himself from the old man too much. Then he'd get the millions and billions and be able to hide away forever and not need to know how to be a person.

Selfish? Yeah, but Alan couldn't see himself being anything else. At least he knew that part of being rich. Selfishness. Wouldn't Dad be so proud of him? He'd finally done something right.

But then there was a small thump and a scraping noise. Alan peeked over his shoulder and, much to his surprise; Lorenzo was sitting right beside him, his cases tucked neatly to his opposite side. Lorenzo looked at him and Alan quickly looked down. He wasn't sure how to react to this. He wasn't expecting it. He peeked again, and Lorenzo smiled.

"What are you doing?" Alan asked before he could stop himself.  
"Sitting." He threw a rock and missed. "Throwin' rocks at a dumpster."  
"Why?"  
"Dunno."  
"That's not an answer."  
"It's good enough for me."  
"That's not fair." He almost whined, regretting the sound once it slipped past his lips.  
"Eh. Gimme some more rocks. I'm out on this side."  
"No." Clang. "Get your own."  
"Don't be a jerk." Clang. "Oh. Found some."

Again Alan looked upwards, directly at the side of Lorenzo's face. He seemed absorbed in the rock throwing game. His whole face was screwed up in concentration. Even his tongue was sticking out to the side a little. It was almost… childish, in the way he focused so intensely on something so simple. For a second Alan thought maybe, just maybe, Lorenzo was just as much not human as he was. The thought, though absurd, gave him some strange sense of comfort. He actually caught himself smiling.

"Lorenzo?"  
"Yeah?"

He was supposed to say something here. Something nice. Something sincere. But he couldn't think of anything. Instead he just laid his head on the other boys shoulder and shut his eyes. The clangs kept coming, steady and strong. It was like a heartbeat. A horribly tuned one, but it was… comforting. He almost fell asleep there on Lorenzo's shoulder.

But then the beat stopped.

It had been slowing, but Alan just figured he was drifting off and was becoming deaf to it. Things slowed down when he was going to sleep. It probably wasn't normal, but nothing about him was. It was just that when the beat stopped, he stopped. It felt like his heart stopped. Like he was suffocating. Dying. He twitched awake, which made Lorenzo twitch too.

"Why'd you stop?" Alan asked softly, raising his hand to rub his eye  
"My arm was getting tired." He blinked. "Did you fall asleep?"  
"…Yeah."  
"Oh. That's kinda weird."  
"Yeah."

Lorenzo smiled at him again, but it was weaker than the others. Alan wasn't sure what held it back – probably pity or embarrassment. It sure as hell was hindering his own. The photographer looked down at his camera, dusting off the edge of it. He didn't bother to look up when Lorenzo stood. This would be the awkward goodbye. Lorenzo probably had better things to do, and Alan knew he would eventually have to go home. He just didn't think it would be so soon.

"You wanna go home?"  
"No." He said, almost too quickly. "I… no. Not now."  
"Alright. Wanna go somewhere, then?"  
"Like where?"  
"Anywhere. I can't sit here anymore. It smells funny. And I think I actually sat in something."

Alan started laughing. It was slight, but it was there. It was gone by the time he looked back up at the other boy, but the remnants of it were still littering his face. Lorenzo must have found this small attempt at a smile endearing, because he was smiling too. After a moment he thrust out his hand and jerked his head toward the mouth of the alley.

"C'mon."  
"You're serious?"  
"Yeah. You can stay at my place if you still don't want to go home."  
"Really?"  
"Yep."

Lorenzo kept offering his hand, letting it hang there for a few tense moments while Alan looked at it. Something about it required examination to Alan. He briefly wondered if the other boy would let him photograph it. But he banished the thought and hoisted himself up before he was lost again in his thoughts. Lorenzo was being nice. Genuinely nice – not 'I'd like your money' nice or 'Your father is loaded and means a lot so we'll be nice to you the odd son' nice. He didn't get that too often – best to take it when he got it.

Once he got to his feet he shook his head, a sudden wash of vertigo overtaking him for a moment. He realized his legs were slightly numb. He must have been sitting for a while. He waited for the feeling to come back into them, trying not to tip forward because of the weight of his camera on his neck. Only belatedly did Alan come to realize he was, in fact, still clasping Lorenzo's hand in a solid handshake-like position. Had he been holding on this tightly the entire time? He glanced up to Lorenzo, feeling his face go red already. But the other boy didn't seem upset or the least bit fazed. That made the photographer feel a little better, but he couldn't bring himself to rectify the situation either. It… felt too good holding his hand like this.

"Lorenzo?" Alan asked quietly, looking directly the hand in question  
"Yes Alan?" He answered.

Alan looked up to see him tilting his head a little, giving the aforementioned hand a gentle, almost reflexive squeeze. The feeling… it shot through him. It made him nearly shiver or sigh or do something really weird, even by his standards. He dropped his eyes to the joined hands again and did his best to reciprocate, but it was hard enough trying to keep whatever was lodged in his throat from embarrassing him again. It passed, though, and in that moment that he could manage to be a normal human he managed to say all he needed to.

"Thank you."

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**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
